Cherish your spuds, chefs
The spud, staple stodge of our diets for centuries, seems to have become about as fashionable as an evening spent listening to Val Doonican’s…
Opinion
Butlers Arms: worth the journey
There are, I think, few reasons to drive across the city to Sutton Coldfield. A stroll round the park, maybe. To laugh at Villa…
Dark Horse: It’s smokin’
The Americanisation of Britain is a deplorable thing, its worst manifestation being the inability of any teenage girl to construct a sentence that does…
Two Cats: Thanks for bringing us the C-word!
Birmingham’s culinary journey from gastronomic backwater to a city of a thousands tastes can, perhaps, be encapsulated in just one letter – the letter…
Nomad: Razor-sharp with the clams!
Audacity is a good thing in a chef. It challenges the tedious. It creates new experiences for customers. It’s exciting. It can, of course,…
It’s fine to dine scruffily
Tom Aikens, an extraordinarily talented chef with a gift for creating surprising dishes, was less surprising in a recent observation. Fine dining, he said,…
The Plough left me with no furrowed brow
Please let no-one run away with the idea that I have anything but the greatest respect for Harborne and its inhabitants. To spend a…
Stupid slates, wonky wheelbarrows and barmy boards
It is difficult to imagine who, other than a midget gardener, would want a miniature watering can. Yet I, admittedly of restricted height but…
Anderson’s Bar & Grill: no gnawing doubts
Yabba dabba doo. Iron me my bearskin tunic. Pass me my club. Empty the pet dinosaur’s litter tray. I suddenly became Fred Flintstone when…
Old Moseley Arms: all ale good curry and beer
There are cravings that are sometimes incompatible. Watching Birmingham City and having a life untouched by disappointment, for instance. Being a Villa fan and…